


three's a crowd

by peachyteabuck



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), marvel actors - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Cum Play, Degradation, Dom/sub Play, Multi, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Threesomes, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: A study in different types of domination;Tom offers Chris to have a threesome with the two of you. Things go exactly as planned.





	three's a crowd

Chris never thought he’d be in a situation like this.

He’s done weird stuff in his life, sure, don’t think that he’s a novice at having poor impulse control. He’s a rich, eccentric, Australian actor with two brothers - there’s been wild shit he’s done that he’d never thought was possible.

This, though, will definitely be the craziest, sexiest, and most exhilarating thing he’s ever done.

He’s not doing anything yet, just gripping his ice-cold beer and awkwardly standing in his colleague’s bedroom like he’s at a party without anyone he knows. Normally when he felt this out of place, he’d look at his phone, twiddle his rings, cough to fill the silence between him and the people around him. Now, though, his focus was entirely on the scene in front of him: the modern decor, his shirtless co-worker tying you - a willing, naked, and eager participant - into some humiliating position. To his own surprise, anticipation doesn’t build up in Chris’ chest. The feelings that course through his veins are closer to curiosity, wonder, some feeling that combines the nervousness of fucking someone for the first time and the thrill of sexual deviance. In short, he’s _excited_. _Very_ excited.

It’s not like Chris had _never_ met you before today. You’re the love of Tom’s life, the apple of his eye, his most prized possession. Chris had spoken to you at red carpet events, on set after a filming day, at dinners, or other times when family members and lovers of the Marvel cast were all in the same place at the same time. None of that small talk over fast food or between photo ops was like this, though, but then again, _nothing_ was like this.

Half of Chris’ brain is desperate to stay present, to listen to Tom’s disappointed words and your obedient replies, the other half is just trying to keep the cold glass in his hands and not shattered on the deep oak floors. He already feels insecure, already feels like some bumbling Neanderthal whose large stature and muscled arms can’t live up to the experience and sophisticated manner of _the_ Thomas William Hiddleston.

The sound of skin hitting skin along with your subsequent moans and “thank you, sir”s break through his self-deprecating train of thought. Tom’s movements are easy, like a well-made watch. The rest of the spanks seem choreographed, the only break in the clean motions being Tom moving you in order to readjust your slumped body by grabbing at the soft ropes that are intricately wrapped around your hips, legs, chest, and arms. Chris counts at least twenty before he’s beckoned over to the end of the bed next to the other man, Tom simply giving him a jerking motion with his bearded chin.

The first thing he sees is your bruised ass and thighs, the soft skin painted with deep purples and blues. His jaw clenches slightly, worried about how much _pain_ you must be in.

Tom seems to notice. “Don’t worry,” he tells him, eyes trained on your body and marveling at your heaving form. “Remember, she likes this.”

Chris wordlessly nods, just staring. Almost subconsciously, he runs his large hands over your stinging ass, spreading your cheeks and making your soaked cunt visible. “Damn,” he mumbles.

“I know,” Tom says, grinning madly. “A beautiful little thing, isn’t she?” A moment passes before either man speaks again, both doms just watching you whimper from the lack of touch and mental exertion from the punishment. As Chris’ hands continue to massage your ass, especially small and pathetic moan escapes your throat. Tom simply tsks, lightly slapping at your hip. It’s not anything major, simply a warning of what will happen if you do not behave. “ _Too bad she’s a slut_.”

Chris doesn’t know what to say, _how_ to say it. Slowly, one hand trails to your glistening, aching center. You gasp, but don’t say anything even as two of his long, experienced fingers curl downwards inside of you.

“Good, good,” Tom tells him. “Now add another.” Chris obliges, using the middle and forefingers of his other hand to spread you open. “Look how wet she is, Chris. So ready to fucked.”

You still don’t speak - you know better than to do so without Tom’s explicit permission, but every so often your breath hitches or a small squeak will escape your lips. Each one causes Tom to threaten you with a light slap to the thigh or ass, making sure you don’t let them get out of hand. Soon, almost too soon, you feel the familiar tightening in your abdomen, the same sweet high almost within reach.

“I can feel her clenching around my fingers,” Chris muses.

_Fuck_ , you think. T _hat insolent bastard. Calling you out before you could come even_ once.

The all-too-familiar sound of Tom telling Chris to cease his actions feels like the Devil himself. “Stop,” he says. “Stop touching her.”

“Why?” Chris’ words are interrupted by another whine from you, a wordless plea to be stuffed.

“Because she doesn’t deserve it,” Tom then pulls you up to his level by the ropes that bind your arms. “Do you, princess?”

You shake your head frantically, trying to please him. “No, sir! I do not deserve to come!”

“And do you know _why_ you don’t you get to come?” He asks, stature still cool, calm, collected. Chris marvels at that, the ability to restrain oneself during a time like this isn’t exactly Chris’ strong suit. If he was alone, he might’ve just fucked your throat and then your pussy without a second thought. He just wants to hear you scream and cry and moan and tremble because of him, wants you to feel so much pleasure all you can do is moan out “ _Daddy_ ” and “ _please_ ” and “ _take it it’s yours_.” Tom’s quite the opposite, he wants you to be denied pleasure until your brain is fried. Wants you to drool and gasp and beg for it, wants to be sure you _really_ want it. Where Chris was about indulgence, Tom was about denial.

You cry out, “Because I’m a slut! And sluts don’t get to come!”

Tom lets you down, then, your upper body hitting the bed as if you were some discarded toy, an object useless and broken from years of being someone’s overused plaything. “Keep going,” Tom instructs. “Keep fucking her with your fingers.” Chris obliges, filling you with four fingers until you’re just about to reach your peak before abruptly pulling out. You’re on almost-orgasm number five when you feel Tom disappear behind you, then the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor. You don’t have the mental capacity to question it, brain to distracted by the desperation to cum.

“ _Stop_ ,” Tom says again suddenly.

Chris does.

Another moment passes with silence, then Chris gets up on the king-sized bed next to you and repositions your limp, wrecked body so that you’re facing the end of the bed…and Tom, who’s naked, sitting in his fancy chair from his even fancier desk that sits across the room.

It’s one of your favorite things in the world, to just lay on the bed in comfy underwear and watch Tom write or annotate scripts or whatever else it is he does. Those are sweet, tender, quiet moments. Moments nothing like this.

Tom stands up, then pulls you up so that your face is close to his again. This time, though, it’s by your hair, which makes you cry out in pain and surprise. “Now, princess, Mr. Hemsworth is going to fuck you…” For a second he just stares into your eyes, watching them swell up with pure want. “And he’s going to do it as I see fit. Understand?”

If you had a soul before this, you most definitely do not now. You can feel it leave your sin-filled body as you moan out a borderline pornographic, “ _Yes sir_.”

Not satisfied with your response, Tom slaps your sore ass once more. He remains stoic, not speaking until your screaming has stopped and your body has stilled. “I think you’re forgetting something,” he says, eyes flickering towards the other man for a split second.

In an instant, you correct your mistake. “Yes, sir. Yes, _daddy_. I understand.”

Tom’s smile is wide and sinister. “Good girl.” he drops you again as he steps away, but this time you don’t hit the impeccably-made bed. Just as Tom lets you go, Chris grabs at your face, two fingers hooking inside of your mouth to keep your back perpendicular to his pelvis. He’s not naked, you can feel him expertly maneuver his boxers and dress pants around so that he can free his massive cock. The entire, _agonizingly_ long time that Chris takes to enter you fully, Tom’s eyes remain locked onto yours. His grin is something you can’t really place because you haven’t seen it before.

On him, at least. Pieces of it you’ve seen in other people, in other places. His eyes have some glow behind them, like a candle burning in a dimly lit room. His wicked, wicked grin is nothing short of absolutely terrifying and absolutely sexy. With one eyebrow raised in interest, he looks like some super villain that’s just taken over the hero’s kingdom, conquered their land, taken his wife. It makes you want to purr like some kind of show cat, to reach over and curl yourself around him.

As Chris begins to thrust in and out of you your moans become louder and louder, Tom just continues to sit there, almost apathetically. You’re just within arm’s reach of him, so he could easily touch you, grope your breasts, tuck your hair behind you ear, _anything_. But no, he remains sitting in his chair, with his legs crossed, staring you down.

You can tell when Chris is about to come, because he lets go of your face to grab at the ropes that wrap around your hips. You’re close again, so fucking close, and all you need is just a little pressure on your clit to push you over the edge. You’re just about to whine for something, anything, when you hear Tom get up from the chair for a moment to tighten the ropes that cross around your chest.

“Flip her over,” Tom commands. In an instant, your back hits the soft blankets and your head leans off the end of the bed. Without warning, Tom pushes his large cock inch by inch into your throat, which is already sore from the constant moaning. Just as you start to gag, Chris pushes himself back into your aching pussy. Easily, they fall into some rhythm that you can only describe as the most erotic thing to ever happen to you. Each of Chris’ thrusts cause you to gag on Tom’s cock, and just as you’re able to pull back to inhale you’re pushed back.

Chris has your legs - which are folded together by rope - pushed to your chest, Tom has one hand pinching your right nipple while the other balances on your stomach, fingers wide over your belly button. “I can feel your cock in her, Chris,” He tells the other man. “Can’t imagine how that feels inside her tight little cunt.”

Chris lets out a breathy laugh, the rest of his brain focused on chasing the high that seems oh so close. Tom is right, your pussy is tight, and the sound of your moans around Tom’s cock and your large chest bouncing with each thrust only seems to make the moment more intense. “ _Fuck_ , I’m gonna come inside her,” he hisses as you squeeze around his member especially tight.

You gag again in surprise, spit rolling down your face, between your eyes, down into your hair. You’ve fucked other people with Tom, tons of them. But Tom has _never_ let any of them come in you. Just the thought of the Australian stuffing you with his seed makes a deep whine course through your body, one that would be more embarrassing if your brain wasn’t too far gone. “ _Oooh_ ,” Tom sing-songs. “I think she’d like that, wouldn’t you princess?”

You pull away enough for Tom’s dick to fall out of your mouth and fall onto your cheek. “Yes, sir. I want daddy to come in me.” You attempt to maneuver his cock into your mouth but Tom’s pulled too far back for that.

You settle for suckling at the head as Tom speaks, voice strained as he attempts not to moan deeply at your ministrations. “Good girl, once Chris comes inside of you, we’ll decide whether or not you get to come tonight. Alright?”

You swallow, tears threatening to spill from yours eyes. _God, all you want is to come. That’s all you want._ “Yes, sir.”

Tom smiles and sits back down, watching you intensely as Chris uses your shoulders as leverage to ram inside of you. They’re off-beat now, much more feral than before. It only takes a few more thrusts before you can feel Chris still, spill inside of you, and then pull out. He crawls down the bed, face now level with your pulsing cunt. He uses his thumbs to pull your outer lips apart, causing you to mewl as his cum trickles out of you. Before it can hit the bed, though, he cleans it up with his expert tongue, dragging it up and down and inside of you until your thighs are shaking so hard you’re sure they’re going to be sore when you wake up tomorrow.

Just as Chris finishes, he places one small kiss to your clit. It was supposed to be cute more than anything else, some adorable reminder of how much he loved fucking you. You’re so wound up, though, that the second his lips come into contact with the more sensitive part of your body the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt wracks your body. If you weren’t tied up, you might’ve started kicking Chris away or grabbing onto a pillow for dear life.

But you are, so you just cry out and attempt to grind your pussy harder onto his scruffy face. It feels like a millennia before the euphoria begins to fade from your body, for the small shockwaves to subside in this afterglow of complete pleasure. When you’re finally able to open your eyes without the entire world fading into some hazy fever dream, you’re met the disappointed face of the man you love most.

“Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head, pushing out your bottom lip. “N-no, sir. You did not tell me I could come.”

Tom _hmms_ before looking up at Chris, who looks moments from pouncing on you like a dog in heat and fucking you again. “Since you’re our guest, I’ll let you pick our little girl’s punishment…” Chris doesn’t say anything, mind overloading with all of the things he could do to you. “Should we deny her or overstimulate her?”

Chris looks down at you, your quivering hips, the tears streaming down your face, your wrecked body, your heaving chest. Slowly, a grin akin to Tom’s spreads across his face, which is still covered in your juices. “Let’s make our little princess come until she’s sobbing.”

Before you can even process what sinful words just left Chris’ mouth, as immediately afterwards you’re being flipped again and then propped face-down ass-up on your bed. You feel your favorite hitachi pressed between your legs and four of Tom’s fingers shoved inside your pussy, fucking in and out of you. Words fail to escape you, your throat preferring to release strangled cries and screams that become muffled by the thick blankets.

The first orgasm rips through your quickly, almost too soon for you to really process the euphoria. Chris feels it, chuckling lowly as he continued to get you off. “ _Count then,_ ” he hisses. When you don’t immediately respond, he smacks your already sore ass with a loud _crack_. “Answer me, _princess_ ,” he commands.

“One,” you gasp. “One, daddy.”

Still he doesn’t stop, simply laying another smack to the other cheek. “Thank me, princess.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” Your sounds pitiful, wrecked. It’s only your first one, too. It’s only a few later until fat tears stream down your face and your “F-five, thank you Daddy” is just a whimper, voice and body worn and tired. The only reason you haven’t passed out yet is your drive to be praised, to be good for them both. A small part of your brain hears them both talking and can feel the vibrator shifting a bit. Soon you feel a small plug push past your tight pucker. Loudly you yelp, trying to push yourself away from the cold steel.

“No, no, no,” Tom scolds. “Be a good little slut and let me fill both of those tight holes, okay?”

You swallow the lump in your throat in anticipation of your required response, but before you can say anything Tom begins to fuck the toy in and out of you. The smooth metal object isn’t uncomfortable - it’s relatively small compared to all the things you’ve shoved up your ass - but the temperature difference between you, your body, the rest of the room, and the plug is just too stark for it not to distract you.

“Good, princess, aren’t you?” Chris purrs. “My good little princess whore.”

You nod, biting into the sheets. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your whore.”

It’s orgasm number eight when Tom decides you’re done, that you’ve been punished enough. Chris pulls his fist out of you and you mewl, murmuring something in gibberish as both men pull away from you. The minute your legs aren’t supported your body slumps onto the bed in pure exhaustion.

You know the drill when it comes to aftercare, you’ve been through it with Tom enough times to know that he prefers to stay silent as he unites the ropes from your body and rubs your favorite ocean breeze-scented lotion into the intents on your skin.

But now Chris is here, and as Tom’s unspoken rule goes, “if you had a hand in the fucking, you have a hand in the aftercare.”

Your eyes are closed, screwed shut from how emotionally and physically drained you are. Still, you can tell the difference in who is touching you and when. It’s obvious that Chris is the one massaging your bruised thighs, his fingers are thicker and less experienced than the other man’s. You also know that Tom is the one who brushes your sex hair into a loose bun before securing it with your favorite worn-out scrunchie, a cotton maroon one he bought you on your first vacation together. Chris is the one to wipe off your dripping pussy, Tom is the one to slip one of his worn-out t-shirt onto you. Chris is the one to scoop you into his arms bridal style while Tom switches out the dirty blankets for freshly cleaned ones, their flowery scent flooding your senses.

It doesn’t take long for you to long fall in a coma-like state, sandwiched between their two warm bodies. Tom wraps himself around you like he’s cuddling a childhood stuffed animal while Chris’ arm snakes around your waist. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is a scruffy kiss to your forehead and another the back of your neck.


End file.
